


The Spark Movement

by SophieTrancy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Arrested Stiles Stilinski, Art Student Stiles Stilinski, Artist Stiles Stilinski, Crimes & Criminals, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Doctor Derek Hale, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fame, Gay Sex, Hale Family Feels, Happy Ending, Human Derek Hale, Human Stiles Stilinski, Lawyers, M/M, Party, Post-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Psychologist Derek Hale, Rich Derek Hale, Romance, Separation, Sharing a Bed, The Hale Family, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Vandalism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:08:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29380428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieTrancy/pseuds/SophieTrancy
Summary: 'Who I am doesn't matter.There will be no further explanation.I am everywhere'The Spak Movement had taken New York City over by storm. And it was Stiles' best kept secret. Call him crazy, but Stiles loved riding the subway. He could enjoy his favorite podcasts and get started on his... special projects. Stiles had never felt the need to reveal himself to the world. The thrill of nearly getting caught was what made the Movement so much fun.But what if he could let someone in on the secret? The cute guy with the most gorgeous cheekbones Stiles had ever had the pleasure of sketching seemed like the perfect candidate.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 24
Kudos: 81





	1. He'd Pick Fauvism Any Day

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back?

Call him crazy, but Stiles loved riding the subway. There was just something about it that felt really comforting. Sure, if you could ignore the noise and the rude people. But it was one of his favorite times of day, when he could tune everything out by listening to music or podcast episodes. Whenever he could find a seat, he would pull out his sketch pad and get started on homework. 

But there were days he got  _ really  _ lucky. And he got to work on some of his…  _ special _ projects. He knew it was risky, working on his pieces in such a public place, but he enjoyed the thrill of almost getting caught. It was the primary reason why he had come up with an entire alias and brand. So he could continue being Stiles, without having to lose a part of himself to the world.

Of course, there were days he wanted to drop out and live off of his art. But he had promised his father he’d see college through. NYU was lucky to have him, he used to say. Stiles was thankful for everything he learned, but let’s just say sketching impressionists wasn’t his idea of a grand old time. That’s where the earbuds came in. He needed music to make things more interesting. When it came to his own work, he had never had problems finding a muse. But school stuff? Gosh, sometimes he wanted to gauche his own eyes out.

Stiles wasn’t  _ good  _ with people. That was how his mother had found out he had a thing for art. He would spend every waking moment drawing. He’d rather get lost in his own world than make friends with the other kids. Then Scott had come into the picture and things had changed, of course. But Stiles always came back to his sketch pad. He had a tendency to be too loud and happy and sometimes he scared people away. He was simply a lot to handle.

So he would just sit there, backpack in between his feet, pad rested on his knees. On a good day, he could get a good ten per cent done. He had learned to draw in a moving vehicle at a very young age, so that wasn’t an obstacle for him. Today wasn’t exactly what Stiles would call a good day. He still had some things to get done before his first outing of the month the following night and this impressionists thing was biting him in the ass!

Impressionists liked faces. Stiles wasn’t all that great at faces either. Growing up with a cop for a father, Stiles had pretty much turned into a human lie detector. Expressions had become just too  _ simple  _ for him. Stiles  _ hated  _ simple. He loved a good challenge, a building too high, running from a police cruiser coming down the street. You could say it was his drug. When he decided to start his own movement in NYC, he had never imagined things would get this out of proportion. But he had gone with the flow. He adapted. But faces? Faces weren’t his thing. Faces were boring.

Which was why he still hadn’t finished this particular piece. He usually liked to get all of his school stuff done before his next outing, but no such luck this time around. Stiles sighed in frustration, biting down on his pencil. He used the break to stretch his hand, which had been cramping from the drawing and erasing he had done the past ten minutes. He just couldn’t seem to get in his usual groove today. 

He noticed the wagon was pretty much empty already. The ride home was much noisier then the ride to college, given how everybody was excited to be going home for the day. People chatted loudly, making plans for the night and Stiles liked being surrounded by that kind of vibe. It always lifted his spirits. He kind of wished he had a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. It wasn’t cold in NYC, at the moment, but his hands were hurting. Art school was no joke.

He realized he hadn’t been paying any attention to the last three minutes of the episode he had randomly chosen to listen to, so he had to rewind it a little. It had been a long ass day, so Stiles chose not to be too harsh on himself. Everybody had good and bad days. He had been staring at a Matisse painting with a colleague for a different project, though that one would be a piece of cake. He’d pick Fauvism any day.

Stiles decided he was done for the day. He’d work on the sketch in the morning, during his free period. He hugged his things to his chest and enjoyed the last twenty five minutes of the ride home to close his eyes. He never actually slept, but the quiet swaying of the cart helped him slip into a different headspace of sorts.

He chuckled a few times with the jokes being cracked on the episode, but didn’t exactly open his eyes. He was so acquainted with the stations, he knew he only had three more before it was time for him to go. Stiles sighed, throwing his backpack over his shoulder and getting up while the wagon wasn’t moving. A lady came to sit where he had been, sighing at the heavy bags she had been carrying. 

Stiles made his way to the nearest exit, yawning. He stuffed his phone and earbuds into the pocket of his coat and zipped it up. As he stood by the door only then did he notice the man standing next to him. He was hugging his briefcase to his chest with one arm and seemed to be on the very brink of losing his mind at whoever he was speaking to on the phone.

“How the  _ fuck  _ should I know? He’s  _ your  _ boyfriend, Cora, not mine” Stiles saw the man rolling his eyes, at his own words or at the person on the other side. The wagon was nearing the next station, so Stiles moved out of the way to let two other people get inside “You should ask Erica about it, okay? I’m not gay enough to deal with this crap”

Stiles did his best to hold back the snort of laughter that wanted out of his chest. He had no context for that conversation whatsoever, but whatever it was, it was proof enough the guy at least had a sense of humor. Stiles wanted to say he kept to himself and let the guy mind his own business, but he would be lying.

“Well, ask Isaac, then. He’ll know what to do. Have you  _ seen  _ the scarves he wears?” Stiles wasn’t one to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, but this one just kept getting better and better “I swear, he has more sense of style in his pinky than I have in my entire body”

_ I’d have to disagree with you on that one, buddy.  _ Stiles rolled his eyes at himself. It had been stupidly easy for his trained eyes to examine the man’s larger body. He was easily twice Stiles’ size and was built, all broad shoulders under a black suit jacket. His entire ensemble did a poor job at hiding… well, everything about him.

Stiles realized he had been staring, but he couldn’t help but keep  _ on  _ staring once his eyes landed on the portion of the man’s face he  _ could  _ see. His profile was breathtaking. Back in his freshman year, in one of his very first lessons, he had been taught to look for nothing other than perfection. The perfect symmetry to a person’s features. Though his teacher hadn’t made an official assignment out of it, he had dared every student to start paying more attention to people’s faces.

And Stiles had failed to find such a human. And yet, Stiles  _ yearned  _ to have a proper look at this guy, take in his stubbled cheeks and long, long lashes. His slim nose and  _ impressive  _ cheekbones. Stiles was sure this man was a sight to behold and he had a suspicion he’d finally found what his teacher had been talking about.

Figuring he looked like a total creep, Stiles sighed, forcing his eyes to leave the poor guy alone. Until he dropped his phone, a soft curse whispered under his breath. Stiles acted before he could really do much else, holding onto the wagon as it started slowing down to stop at his station. The iPhone was still lit up and Stiles stole a glimpse at the wallpaper in the homescreen. 

It was his painting.  _ His  _ painting. Stiles smiled. He had done this a thousand times, meeting people who were fans of his work, but not once telling them who he was. Stiles stood back up, hearing the tracks squeak under the weight of the subway train and offered the phone back to the man who so effortlessly managed to steal Stiles’ breath away. It took him all of five seconds to remember to keep breathing.

Holy fucking shit balls, he was gonna have a crush on a complete stranger. One he wasn’t likely to see ever again. And a boner too, so it seemed. The guy smiled, thanking Stiles. He reached for the phone with his free hand and there it was. The outline of  _ another  _ project of his on the white t-shirt the guy wore under the suit jacket. 

Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle under his breath, feeling the guys’ eyes back on his face. As the doors slid open, Stiles got a better grip of his design case. He didn’t bother lifting his gaze as he whispered before stepping out onto the platform:

“Cool shirt”


	2. It Was All People Talked About

Derek _hated_ living so far away from work. Even though he was lucky enough to get to do what he loved every single day, he still found himself regretting never buying a car. While getting the washing machine ready for the night, he huffed at the t-shirt he had worn that day. One of his most troubled kids had revealed his love for the _Spark_. 

Derek had sighed, relieved. _Finally!_ Some common ground. So, he had spent the entirety of the previous week wearing his beloved t-shirts and spreading the love for the artist, quite literally. The kid had been onto him from the first day he showed up wearing one, but he had been too excited about the chance to talk to someone who shared the same interest to care. They had spent their first session discussing the _Spark_ ’s first project and the hour had flown right past them.

Derek had been one of the many witnesses to the birth of the _Spark_ movement. He was a New Yorker, born and bred _and_ he worked with mostly teenagers every day. The _Spark_ had been all over the news since day one and had been all everyone talked about for weeks on end. At first, he had been very judgemental of the whole thing. He had allowed other people to influence his opinion on the matter and he had to guess his mother would be very disappointed in him for that. Afterall, Derek had been taught that people had every right to speak their mind. 

The _Spark_ had never been afraid to speak their truth, no matter who it hurt. Derek had to guess that was one of the main reasons for the movement’s popularity. Honesty was refreshing, these days. They had come after politicians, the corrupt justice system, fat shaming celebrities in the most inventive of ways. Every possible surface had become their canvas. Buildings, cars, the very pavement. New York City would wake up to a new design every few weeks. Derek had come to respect the mastermind behind it all, surprised he shared a lot of the same opinions.

And within a few months, the _Spark_ movement had taken New York City over by storm. Local art magazines talked about it as something momentaneous, a surge of street art getting too much praise. The _Spark_ had graffitied outside their building the day after their article had come out. Derek had chuckled at the news. Oh, the _balls!_ The _New Yorker_ had taken to writing a column on the movement, to keep everyone ‘updated’. That was their reasoning. But it had turned into a full blown gossip fiasco three weeks in, with people playing detective to try and find out who was behind the _Spark_.

It had caused the _Spark_ to go dormant for two entire months. People had speculated the movement was over, but Derek knew better. Someone like that wouldn’t leave because people got too nosy. One morning, the people of New York had woken up to find pamphlets, hundreds of thousands of bright red pamphlets, spread all over town. The suckers were glued to walls, windows, taxi cabs. It was _everywhere._ Printed in different sizes, the city had spent days trying to remove them all. Of course, plenty of people had complained, but Derek had been amazed. It must have taken so much work and dedication and _stealth!_ Derek had kept one of them.

_“Who I am doesn’t matter._

_There will be no further explanation._

_I am everywhere”_

The message had been loud and clear. After that, the _Spark_ had started getting national attention. Thanks to social media, ‘ _#Spark’_ had been a trending topic from day one. There were online pages dedicated to their work and pubs had trivia night regarding their projects. Five months in and the _Spark_ hadn’t ceased to amaze. The first painting, however, surfaced thanks to an anonymous donation to a very prestigious art gallery on the Upper East Side. The artist behind it? _The Spark_.

The art world had imploded. The painting had been stared at for days on end, people scheduled appointments to come in and have all of five minutes with the canvas. Articles were written, professionals gave their ratings. It was all people talked about, once again. And they hadn’t stopped after that. More paintings continued to pop up, in a completely unrelated schedule to the art on the streets. 

Derek had been convinced that those critical, ironic and savage drawings splashed all over the city and the stoically beautiful paintings adorning the walls of some select _expensive_ galleries on the Upper East Side _had_ to have been done by two very different individuals. There was just no _freaking_ way a single person had that much talent. 

And Derek _loved_ trying to understand the mind behind it. Coming from a psychology degree and a masters in child education and mentality, he had found himself using every single skill he had ever acquired to try and make sense of who this person could be. And he had never gotten frustrated upon failure. Instead, every few weeks, there was something new to look into. A new drawing, a new intervention on their daily lives. It was a gift that just kept on giving.

Derek enjoyed his Saturday mornings to go on walks around the city. He spent all week at the office, so he enjoyed trying to spot everything that had changed during his free time. Which restaurants had closed, which shows were still on. Sundays were his stay-at-home days, so he took his time to get everything he needed done on Saturdays. That included groceries, gym and whatever errands he could fit in. Solitude never bothered him, as long as Derek kept his headphones on. He wore jeans and a shirt and made his way out of his neighborhood on foot.

Derek had decided to splurge a little and added decorations to his list of errands. He had grown tired of staring at the untouched walls of his apartment. He had spent the last six months reading and discussing art, maybe he had picked up a thing or two. Cora had been trying to get him to hire a decorator for the past three years, but Derek had never budged. If only she could see him now. He grabbed his phone and dialed her number. Derek knew she would most likely still be in bed, but he gave it a shot anyway.

“Der? Tell me there’s an emergency” Cora groaned, probably after looking at the time. Derek chuckled, holding the door to a coffee shop open to help a lady with too many cups. He nodded and smiled, moving on with his conversation, entering the place “Otherwise, why the _hell_ are you calling at this hour?”

“It’s almost nine o’clock in the morning, my _dear_ sister” Derek chuckled and got in line, which thankfully wasn’t very long. This was a morning of firsts apparently, because Derek had always wanted to stop by the place. The building was all exposed brick and looked like a warehouse. The windows were huge and the chairs looked inviting. The place was already half full, with couples sharing donuts and all kinds of drinks. His eyes explored the menu on the wall above the counter as he decided on what to get “I just thought you’d like to know I’m following your advice”

“And I’m usually right” Derek rolled his eyes and followed as the line moved. He could hear Cora yawning as she stumbled into her kitchen to make herself her own cup of coffee “But what about exactly this time?”

“I decided to look for some art stuff. For the apartment” Derek shrugged, even though he knew Cora couldn’t see him. It was just something he did. Derek had always hated speaking on the phone. You couldn’t see the other person and, for someone who had made a living out of examining people, it wasn’t the most comfortable setting for him “I’m going to run some errands and have a look at local shops. Would you like to join me for lunch? Go painting hunting with me?”

“Why, absolutely. Anything to get me away from my own problems” Derek chuckled, whispered his order to the barista before returning to his call. Boy trouble could get a girl running for the hills “Though ‘art stuff’ has me a little worried. For someone with such good taste, that was oddly vague, even for you. I think you might be in dire need of my help, Der Bear”

“Well, I haven’t really thought about what I’m looking for, I suppose. I guess I’ll know it when I see it” Derek paid for his large cup of coffee and inhaled the sweet scent of his drink before using his elbow to open the door. The weather was really perfect and he enjoyed being outside far more than sitting at one of those tables. He had been pleased to learn the service at the shop was so efficient, he’d definitely go back “Meet me on the corner of 25th and Madison? Say 11:45?”

After hanging up, Derek found that his feet were taking him toward the most expensive side of town. The local stores seemed unusually bare and nothing seemed to fit in with his taste. Derek wasn’t the kind of guy who welcomed change, so he knew that whatever he brought home had to be perfect. The last thing he needed was to have to stare at something hideous every time he got home. He’d done such a great job decorating his office building, he hadn’t had a single drop of inspiration for his own apartment. It was pathetic how he had had only a few boxes to unpack when he moved in. Especially when the office had taken an entire week and a group of friends. 

He had almost given up hope when he stopped outside a large white gallery, just a block away from where he was supposed to meet Cora. Her favorite restaurant was just down the street from there and Derek had been surprised he hadn’t remembered this one place. His feet became stuck right where he stood the second his eyes landed on the painting being delivered inside. It wasn’t an unusual sight, but the painting caught his eye in an instant. There was a woman, who dramatically covered her mouth as she held what looked like a letter. 

Derek couldn’t see the painting all that well, but he would recognize that signature just about anywhere. Derek only realized what he’d done once he found himself inside the cool gallery, eyes glued to a _Spark_ canvas that was easily five times the size of their regular paintings. He had never seen it before, so he had to guess it was brand new. 

“Sorry, we aren’t open for business yet” The woman left the open envelope on the counter behind him, removing her gloves as she walked toward him. She seemed to notice Derek didn’t even acknowledge her words. Her eyes followed his and he heard her chuckle “Oh, a fan of the _Spark_ movement, I take it. I am much more a fan of his street pieces myself, but this one is just delightful, is it not?”

Derek stuttered, nodding his agreement that the street paraphernalia was that much more fun to study, but _this_ painting made words fall short. There was true _beauty_ in front of him, the face of a woman he had never seen before but captured with such life that it brought tears to Derek’s eyes.

“I’ve… never seen this one before” Whoever the woman was, meant a great deal to the artist. Her face held such intrinsic detailing it was almost like looking at a picture. Or even a memory. The corners of the canvas were blurred, almost as if someone had been looking at her through teary eyes. The woman looked down at the view, a gentle smile on her lips, reaching with her arms as if Derek were laying down. It was breathtaking. 

“Oh, it’s brand new” Derek’s head snapped to look at her, intrigued and ecstatic that he was getting to see this masterpiece first-hand. Usually galleries kept the painting under wraps until they planned some sort of unveiling party. The _Spark_ never made any requests or asked for a share of the money. “It was only just delivered to us”

“Were they… were they _here_?” Derek had taken to being neutral when talking about the artist behind the _Spark_ , but many people had just assumed them to be a man. Specialists had analyzed his brush strokes, his signature and concluded that he had to be a man, no matter how delicate he could be at times. Then there was the fact he climbed buildings and stuff for the street pieces. People had just assumed a woman wouldn’t do that, which had caused its fair share of commotion online. Derek didn’t think it mattered all that much, but even he had to admit the secrecy only added to the mystery.

“Oh, I wish! No, he wasn’t. I’m afraid his identity is the one thing he holds closest” The woman sighed, her eyes still lost on the painting. Not that Derek could blame her. It was hard to look at, for its intimacy and even harder to look away. It evoked memories Derek had long buried and, even though they weren’t all that great, he couldn’t look away for very long. He wouldn’t mind getting to look at it more often “This canvas is to be auctioned in a few days”

“Auctioned?” Derek frowned. That was new. None of the pieces had gone up for auction before. Sure, people had nearly started wars for them, with rumors of fights breaking out in galleries, but this was entirely news to Derek “They never auctioned anything before”

“I guess the _Spark_ still has some surprises up his sleeve. This piece is for the Truth or Truth campaign. Artists from all kinds of crafts have been ‘nominated’ by their fellow craftsmen to reveal one of their most treasured memories” Derek had heard of the project, of course. And had heard of the _Spark_ being nominated, but he had never figured they were the kind of artist that would reveal such a huge thing about themselves, especially when secrecy was part of their brand. He could see it as a publicity thing, given how people would freak out at how personal they were being. But Derek found it hard to believe the _Spark_ was acting with that in mind “When the _Spark_ contacted us, asking if we’d be interested in representing him for the auction, we were very happy to do so. I was… shocked that _this_ was what came through those doors this morning. Here, have a look”

The lady, Kira as she had introduced herself, led Derek toward the counter, where she offered Derek a pair of gloves. She put a pair on herself and showed him the envelope she had just opened. Derek saw the pretty name written in red ink and his heart raced. A letter from _Spark_ , a personal note. They had never done so before. Derek’s mind came up with millions of theories as to why they would change that now. The envelope didn’t seem custom made, plenty of stores sold fancy black envelopes, but the art on it was anything but ordinary. Derek had every reason to believe the _Spark_ had put a lot of thought into it.

Kira laid a suede towel on the counter top and handed Derek the latter. The paper was fancy, alright and most definitely store bought, with a red cursive _S_ on the left upper corner. Derek rested it on the towel, not wanting to be responsible in case something happened to it. His hands were also shaking, so he decided it’d be best if he kept them to himself.

“Just be careful with it” Kira removed her own gloves and stepped away from the counter to officially open the place. The painting was already being moved away from its current resting place and Derek couldn’t help but steal a couple more glances. Derek knew he had barged in, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry about it “This is the _handwritten_ note that came along with the painting. We still have to analyze it, but the email spoke of a note that would accompany the canvas. We have every reason to believe it’s from the _Spark_ himself. It will be auctioned along with the canvas”

Derek looked at the words on the page and took a deep breath.

_It surprised me I was willing to share this particular memory with the world. Part of me wanted to create something fun and entertaining, but I later realized that’s not the purpose of this campaign. I am immensely grateful for the nominations, by the way. I know it’s hard to believe, but, in my personal life, I’m an open book. Chances are we’ve met before. You might even call me easygoing._

_So, after being nominated, I sat in my flat and pondered on this memory. I made a list of things I could try and capture, but the truth is, I knew it just couldn’t be this particular one. It scared me far too much. Apart from revealing my real name, this is the most personal I have ever been in my work. But isn’t that what art is all about? Fighting your own boundaries? So, there you have it._

_This painting is called ‘Claudia’, in honor of my mother. Why does this memory scare me? Easy. I’m the reason her life fell apart. After being diagnosed with a degenerative disease, I watched my mother fade away into oblivion, until her sharp mind became dull and she took her own life, on January 17th. This is my earliest memory of her. My happiest memory. The short, precious moments when my mother would wake me up. I couldn’t have been more than three at this point._

_My father drank himself to death not a year later, unable to go through life without her._

_It’d be beautiful, weren’t it all so tragic._

_My mother was a fighter, a piano teacher and an awesome baker. She touched so many people with her truth and love. She raised a hyperactive child mostly on her own, helping me with my homework and tucking me in with a made up story every single night. No matter what happened in the end, my mother will forever be my happiest memory._

_I thought about showing how much her death had hurt me. But I chose against it. She meant more to me than her suicide. She is my Claudia no matter what. So, here is my happiest, fondest memory._

_Spark._

Derek kept his eyes fixed on the page. The words had made his eyes sting and something crack inside his chest. It reminded him so much of his mother it was hard to breathe for a long while. He was glad he hadn’t been holding the page. The last thing he needed or wanted was to leave tear stains on such a valuable document. He was startled back into the present by his phone ringing in the pocket of his jeans. _Shit_. He’d completely forgotten about Cora.

“Hey. Sorry, I’m late. I know” Derek hadn’t seen time fly by, but he was already twenty minutes late. Which he never was. Tardiness just wasn’t his thing. He wiped the tears from his eyes and made his way to the center of the gallery showroom. His shoes echoed on the marble floors, given how there wasn’t a single piece of furniture in the entire place “Can you meet me at the Berry Campbell Gallery? It’s just a block away from you. I believe I have found the piece I was looking for”

Derek looked for Kira, perfectly certain he’d pay whatever price he had to in order to own it. He was already thinking of calling the bank for them to be ready in case of a large withdrawal. He found her dusting off frames, humming happily to herself. She turned to him, but smiled when she heard the bell ring on top of the door. She was about to make her way over, but Derek stopped her.

“That’s just my sister” Derek spoke with great confidence. Cora could walk really fast in her stilettos when she wanted to, especially when he owed her a lunch date at her favorite spot in town. She wore white jeans and a cream jacket, her bag thrown over her shoulder. Derek knew Kira would soon enough see the Hale family resemblance. Everybody did “The _‘Claudia’._ I would like to purchase it. No matter the cost”

Derek could feel Cora wanting to say he wasn’t going to buy _shit_ unless she said so, but he was ready to fight both the women in front of him on this. Derek had never been more sure of anything in life. Kira stuttered, most definitely in awe of Cora. Most people found her intimidating and his sister loved taking full advantage of that. She must have realized how serious Derek was, because she took her sunglasses off and smiled her best Hale smile.

“I… I’m sorry, but we are only doing what the _Spark_ asked us to. The painting belongs in the Truth or Truth auction. I can’t sell the auction’s center lot. It’s the only reason the auction is happening in the first place” Derek was ready to go all out for this painting, but he had to guess Kira was right. Her gallery was only the middle man in this situation. If it were to be auctioned, there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her company wouldn’t make as much money if it were sold privately and Derek, or any other interested buyer, would have to spend twice or three times the sum, if it weren’t “If you’d like, you can make a starting bid and earn a spot on the auction, next Friday. If you outbid the others, the _‘Claudia’_ is yours”

Derek agreed to her terms before he could give the whole situation too much thought. He pulled out a check, which he filled out with the according starting bid. He still had six days before the auction, so that gave him plenty of time to prepare for that event. He’d _definitely_ have to stop by the bank during the week. Once they were on their way over to the restaurant, Cora whistled.

“A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Who would’ve thought I’d live to see the day my big brother spent that kind of money on a painting” Cora teased, locking her arm with his as they walked toward the restaurant. They’d be lucky to find a table, but Derek figured he’d let Cora handle this one. Besides, he didn’t want to be teased any more so he didn’t mention how he still had no idea if the painting would be his. He had just spent money to buy himself a seat at that event “I’m proud of you, Der Bear. Oh! Pinch me, I must be dreaming!”

Derek chuckled and followed his little sister inside the restaurant.


	3. Keep Himself From Smiling

Stiles had cackled for three whole minutes when he heard his painting had been sold for an astounding one-point-five million dollars. Not because he didn’t think it was worth that amount, but because of the sheer absurdity of the news. His mother sure as hell deserved the praise, but it still was a mind boggling fact to wake up to on a Saturday. School had been a bitch to him all day the previous day and Stiles found himself going home to some mac ‘n’ cheese and an entire evening of refreshing Twitter until news of the painting came out.

No names were published, but Stiles could only imagine some art critic had purchased the painting. Maybe even some other gallery or maybe a modern art museum. The possibilities were endless. And, anyway, it was for a good cause. Many art programs would be able to remain afloat thanks to that kind of investment. It had been the primary reason Stiles had agreed to participating. But his Saturdays were precious to him. Almost sacred.

Stiles went for a run around the perimeter of Central Park early in the morning, stopping by Scott’s house before finishing his outing with a supply run. All the local art supply shops knew him at this point. It was a great bonus that his education was also his alibi for spending hundreds of dollars on canvases, brushes and whatever more refined materials he needed. The school provided the most basic supplies, but Stiles had come to appreciate the finer things in life. One doesn’t just graffiti hundreds of square feet of building surfaces with school supplies. 

So, through the afternoon and well into the evening, Stiles would sing along to Foster The People and get lost inside his own little world. He already had weeks of _Spark_ projects in the making, so all he could do at this point was wait for his newest piece to be found and dive headfirst into that impressionist bullshit assignment. His hamstrings were still sore from climbing that many steps two nights before. And he had nearly been late for school the following morning, thanks to a night spent awake. But it would all be worth it.

* * *

The _‘Claudia’_ was delivered to his penthouse the following day. He had spent the better part of an hour signing documents and, for whatever reason, had been waiting for him to regret the purchase. But the feeling never came. It had taken four men to deliver the painting, the canvas so large it didn’t fit the regular elevator. It mobilized the entire building staff. Derek held the door open and had stared in complete and utter awe as it was placed on the wall he had cleared for it. 

What a stunner. He couldn’t seem to get tired of staring at it. He had almost received death threats the night before once he had laid his claim, but Derek had to admit it had been worth it. It had given him a sort of thrill nothing else could match. He shook the hands of the delivery men, giving each of them a large tip. What could he say, he was feeling generous. 

Cora knocked on his door half an hour later and Derek sighed, forcing himself to move away from the painting to open the door for her. He still wore his pajamas, but she looked about ready for battle. They had gone to the auction together the night before and Derek had watched as her chin dropped more and more the longer Derek kept bidding on the piece. Part of her was incredibly proud that he was finally using his inheritance. Derek deserved to have nice things, whatever he wanted. The other part had kind of been wishing for a car instead.

* * *

Stiles looked for those broad shoulder for _days_ after that first encounter. If he could even call it that, that was. But there had been no sign of the man for two whole weeks after that. Stiles had already found his seat before he finally saw him. And his smile immediately deflated. There was a _girl_ with him. Though Stiles had heard him say he was gay, he had no way to prove it. It made him feel _that_ much more stupid when he pulled out his sketch pad.

There those cheekbones were, gorgeous green eyes staring back at him. Remember how Stiles hated faces? Well, let’s just say he didn’t hate _this_ face. But faces were tricky for him. Especially the one face he hadn’t seen in over fourteen days. Stiles had started drawing him as soon as he got home, afraid he’d start forgetting the smaller details. Besides, it wasn’t like Stiles was going to make a move on the man. Please, he barely even spoke to his barista. What on _Earth_ could he possibly say to the most handsome man he had laid his eyes on?

Stiles chose not to plug in his earbuds this time. He went unnoticed, eyes going back and forth from his sketchbook to the man sitting across the cart from him. The guy smiled that gorgeous smile of his, though he never showed any teeth. Stiles wondered why that was. He had to guess he’d be blinded if he ever did see them. The guy was probably trying to prevent any accidents. Stiles had gotten a few things wrong about him, shocker. He pulled out his darkest pencil and got started on his hair, which had been the least of his concerns up until now.

“Derek, Boyd _works_ with us” The girl next to him groaned, resting her head on his shoulder “How could I possibly approach him with this? I mean, I like the guy. But I wouldn’t want to risk our working relationship on a maybe”

“Baby girl, you know I wish I could give you _all_ the answers, right? But you’re asking for advice from the wrong person. Remember the last time I tried dating? Or the time before that? Trust me, you do _not_ want relationship advice from me”

_Derek._

Derek sounded nice. Stiles bit his lip to keep himself from smiling. He sighed at his own stupidity a moment later. He couldn’t believe he was acting like a fucking teenager at this point in his life. Stiles told himself that the warm feeling inside his chest was just his imagination. There was no way in hell he’d fall for someone he didn’t even know. Lydia had all but crushed his heart and it had taken them years to get to being friends. He couldn’t possibly go through that again. With a _stranger_.

“Boyd’s not _her_ , Derek. You know that. He’s been working with us for over a year now. He’s a good guy. But he won’t be forward with me and it’s so frustrating! So, I’m stuck. Afraid to make a move”

“Erika, who the fuck are you, huh? You’re a badass woman who raised a child on her own. You don’t have to be afraid to ask him out, this is the twenty-first century. And gosh, I may have had some pretty damn catastrophic experiences with women, but you are one of the few good ones out there. He’d be stupid not to see that and Boyd’s _anything_ but”

Stiles was _hella_ confused. Wasn’t he gay up until two minutes ago? But he’s been with women too? Sure, okay. Stiles himself was bissexual. But why would he identify as gay, then? Stiles’ head was spinning from all that wondering. It did him no good, considering he was running low on his Adderall of the day.

“And _that_ is why I come to you for relationship advice, Derek and not your sister. Cora is amazing and all that, but she hardly ever knows what to say, even when she has the best intentions. You? You could be president, you have such a good way with words”

“Who knows, maybe we’re raising the next president”

* * *

Do you know how many Derek's live in New York City? Ugh, Stiles was frustrated! He got home that night and left his sketchbook untouched on his work desk. He really didn’t feel like looking at that face anymore, no matter how gorgeous it was. At least for the time being. He needed to get that heartburn under control. Even after dinner and a good shower, he still found himself opening his laptop.

But he hadn’t meant to try and google the man. That was some stalker shit and Stiles wanted nothing to do with it. Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to get a life. Apart from nearly getting arrested every other night, of course. But how could he explain being the _Spark_ to someone? How does one explain finally finding what they were supposed to do with their lives, no matter how orthodox that was? No matter the lengths they had to go to? It wasn’t as though Stiles could write that in his Tinder profile.

Let’s just say Stiles wasn’t all that fond of spending his weekends alone.


	4. As If Blinded By It

Derek hadn’t been completely _unaware_ of the guy from that day looking at him from time to time. He had been subtle, Derek had to hand it to him. It had taken Derek a couple of days to even spot him, let alone notice he had been eyeing him. At first, he just ignored it. The guy gave no indication that he wanted to speak with him, with how he had always had his earbuds in, listening to something that often made him chuckle as silently as possible. A podcast was Derek’s best guess.

And that was his routine for days on end. He’d go to work, sit across from the cute guy on the ride home and do it all over again the following day. It wasn’t really that bad of a day to have. But recently the kid seemed to have his attention focused elsewhere. On the large sketchbook he held, apparently. Derek hadn’t once been able to see what he was doing, but it seemed to be important. He switched colored pencils of multiple brands, biting his bottom lip in concentration from time to time.

It wasn’t until Thursday evening, the cart somewhat crowded, that things changed. Things _finally_ changed. Derek hadn’t seen the envelope coming. The black, elegant envelope that the cute guy, who was standing in front of him as they approached his stop, was handing him with a mischievously sweet smile on his face. Up close, Derek thought he could count every single one of those beauty marks that adorned his skin.

Derek had seen him ramadging inside his backpack for something, but he had never expected _this_. The guy had shielded whatever he had been doing with said backpack and Derek had all but blinked and missed him getting up. And, before Derek could do much more than just grab the envelope, the guy turned on his heels and left, a chuckle out of his chest at Derek’s baffled expression. Derek turned the envelope in his hands, his heart slamming against his ribcage as his mind raced back to the first time he had touched one of those. The envelope he had paid for.

At the gallery.

This envelope was five times the size and wasn’t sealed like that one had been. It couldn’t be, could it? But that would mean… Derek took a deep breath. There was no point in stressing out about that right now. One thing at a freaking time, he told himself. But Derek couldn’t help closing his eyes at the drawing he held, almost as if blinded by it. 

It was him.

 _Him_.

Derek found there almost a picture of himself, sitting on the subway cart. It was so _good_ , so real. And familiar. The style, the strokes on paper. Derek felt like he had already looked at the drawing before, even though the date on the bottom corner matched the one on his phone.

Oh, _fuck_.

The signature.

_Spark._

No. No, it couldn’t be.

All this time? All these weeks he had been _that_ close to the _Spark_ himself?! And he really _was_ a guy?! A _cute_ guy?! Derek’s hands trembled as he looked at himself with a different set of eyes. The _Spark_ had sketched him. Ever since _that_ day, he had known Derek was a fan. Was that why he kept stealing glances? Derek was so confused it made his head spin.

Then a piece of paper fell out of the envelope and onto his lap. Derek closed his eyes for a second time. The same handwriting greeted his eyes and Derek bit his lip to stop himself from smiling when he read the words.

_Have dinner with me tomorrow._

_Whatever time works best for you. My place or any restaurant you want._

_Call me so we can talk? 917-555-0319_

Derek barely had time to slide the drawing back inside the envelope and get out of the cart once he noticed he had missed his station. The _Spark_ had asked him out. _Fuck!_ Derek covered his mouth, desperate to scream into his palm because there were _butterflies_. There were butterflies all the way up to his throat and Derek found himself reaching for his phone without a second thought.

No one had ever done anything quite like that to have Derek. No one had ever appreciated him and he sure as hell felt wanted. Part of him was worried he was chasing some stupid thrill. It was the _Spark_ , for crying out loud. But then he remembered the two whole weeks of wishing the cute guy from his cart would come and talk to him. Or sit next to him, at the very least.

Well, screw this. Derek dialed the number and barely had time to press the phone against his ear before there that chuckle was. Just on the other end of the line. Derek stopped dead in his tracks, mind suddenly blank. What could he even say? He had never thought this would happen. Sure, he had been hit on plenty, but this was _not_ a situation Derek could say he had ever found himself in before.

“You probably have a lot of questions” His voice was soft, melodic. Like it held a secret. Like they _shared_ a secret. And it took Derek only an instant to realize they _did_ share a secret. For better or worse, the guy had trusted him with his biggest secret. Derek felt oddly… honored.

“Fuck _yeah_ , I do” Derek couldn’t help but smile at the full blown laughter he caught on the other end. There seemed to be some echo to his voice, as if he had been standing in a hallway “First of all, _what_? Second, you drew me? That’s what you’ve been doing this _whole_ time? Without even looking at me?” Derek laughed, more in a stunned realization of the conversation he was having “I mean, if I was ever going to get _this_ lucky...”

“I’m sorry if I crossed any lines with drawing you” The guy chuckled and the tone of their conversation changed. It became more intimate, though Derek couldn’t pinpoint why he felt that way “When I saw you were a fan of mine, it just made things complicated. I mean, have you _seen_ yourself?” Derek snorted, looking around before crossing the street to his apartment building. Once inside, Derek took the stairs so the elevator wouldn’t cut their call “I looked at you, a lot… aaaand I did _not_ mean to make that sound like I’m a total creep, by the way. _Jeez_. What I _mean_ is, you’re gorgeous. You probably hear it all the time, but that first time I saw you…”

“I don’t, actually. Hear it all the time” Derek heard a gasp coming from the other side of the line and somehow he knew that it was in feign outrage. They shared a laugh. Derek couldn’t _remember_ the last time he had laughed like that “But why wait to ask me out, then?”

“Well, saying it bluntly, I don’t trust a lot of people. Being the _Spark_ , it’s made dating pretty hard” Derek could only imagine. The sneaking out at night, the run-ins with the cops. But, for some reason, those things didn’t really mean anything to Derek. Still, he didn’t think he could walk away from this. This feeling… it’d been such a long time. He wanted more “And you’re my fan. I… I didn’t ask you out to be friends, if that wasn’t clear”

“Oh, it was clear” Derek felt surprise shoot through him at those words. He was _flirting_. Oh, if his sister could see him now. Derek knew it was just a matter of time before his brain caught up with his mouth, so he worked quickly “And… it’s mutual, just so you know” Derek smiled at the relieved ‘okay’ that was whispered to him on the other end, followed by that delicious laughter again “I’m Derek”

“Stiles” Derek hummed, pleased, as he dropped his bag on the kitchen counter. Every night when he came home, _‘Claudia’_ greeted him. He wanted to say that he had been the one to buy it, but he felt like that wasn’t the right time. Still, he sat on the stool and let his eyes take in the whole picture again “So, do I stand a chance? There’s a lot more to me than just the _Spark_ you like so much”

“Yes. Yeah, I’d like to see that. You” Derek bit his lip. He couldn’t help but smile at the unfamiliar wave of anticipation that surged through him. It gripped his stomach and Derek feared it wouldn’t let him go until this date was afoot.

“Dinner tomorrow, then? My place?” Stiles’ voice sounded just as breathless and excited as Derek felt and it made him fucking _swoon_ , okay? He was so out of practice with this dating stuff, he hoped he didn’t screw up the night and all of what it held for them. 

“Hey, if you cook me dinner, I might never leave” Derek teased, feeling bold with the rush of adrenaline circling his system. The longer they talked, the better Derek felt. 

“You better bring an overnight bag, then” Derek could hear the smile poorly hidden behind Stiles’ words, the teasing, the push and pull he already knew would always be there between them. Derek was really looking forward to tomorrow night “I’m pulling out the big guns. _Grandma’s recipes_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was shorter. But I promise the next one more than makes up for that. 
> 
> Also, I promise not to take another week to upload said chapter. Give me until the end of today and I will work my magic.
> 
> Thanks for reading<3


	5. As Lovely As that Was

Erica stared at him for what felt like an eternity. Hell, Derek knew how surprising the news was, but she had been staring at him as if he’d grown a second head and Derek was starting to feel uncomfortable. Erica was one of the very few people who knew what had come of his past relationships and, after months of trying to get him to go out and try again, she had learned to give up.

Now, they sat in his office, with her hazel eyes unblinking as she took the news in. He could almost smell the smoke coming from her burning through her neurons. Only when Derek stood to close the window he had opened upon arriving, did she close her mouth, which had been agape for a long while and her eyes moved to follow him as he returned to his seat. 

“Okay. Who’s the lucky fella?” Derek felt a deep blush creep up his neck. Of course, that had to be her first question. Derek had to grant it to her, if he had met someone who remotely interested him, Cora and herself would have been the first people to hear of it. But Derek had never mentioned such meet-cute, therefore he had to admit it made sense she would firstly want to know of their story.

“Haven’t met him yet” Before Erica could even gather enough oxygen to continue with her inquiries and judging by how outraged she looked, Derek thought it best if he jumped in ahead of her. Erica had been kind to him and had done her best to match him with both men and women she thought he’d like, so he knew he needed to reassure her that a blind date could not be better than her best intentions “I had seen him on the subway before and thought he was cute. But I never thought about making a move. Of course, it goes without saying I thought he was cute enough that I wouldn’t mind it if _he_ did. Last night, before leaving the cart, he handed me a piece of paper, asking me out”

“I’m sorry” Erica snorted in pure disbelief. It pained Derek that he couldn’t tell her the full truth. That their short acquaintance actually ran much deeper than he was in liberty of saying. Stiles was the _Spark_ and Derek would be damned if that information ever escaped his lips. No matter who he had to lie to “Did you just say you’re going out with a guy you met on the subway?”

“Technically, we’re staying _in_ and yes, I did say so” Derek couldn’t help but smile. Just as he had vowed to keep Stiles’ secret, he had decided to share as much of what he could with the two people who mattered most to him “He gave me his phone number, Erica. And I called him. I don’t know what came over me, but I sure as hell did. And we spoke for an hour. He was… kind. And funny. And… I don’t know, Erica. I want this. I know you’ve tried for me in the past, but I was never willing. I am now”

His words seemed to calm her. If there was one thing he knew she appreciated in him was his judgement of character, no matter how her faith in him had seemed misplaced at times, but he truly believed that if he said as much, then she would find it in herself to take his words to heart. Her scowl softened and she reached for his hand across his desk.

“As long as you’re happy, Derek. And safe, okay?” Derek couldn’t help but smile. He knew that little word implied many things and he would never accept such implications from any other person if not Erica “What else can you tell me, then? What’s his name? Where are you meeting?”

* * *

Derek stood by the sliding metal door of the studio Stiles had led him to. He nervously smoothed down his dark wash jeans with the sweatiest of palms. He figured his usual clothes were too formal. He always chose to wear bespoke slacks and sweaters at work and he doubted anyone would blame him for wanting to leave that part of himself behind. The psychologist would be thrilled to spend another night at home. Derek would much rather play the part of the man who was going out for a change.

It soothed him to think he knew for a fact Stiles wasn’t this kind of person either. And, therefore, if he ever felt too shy about the whole situation, he could count on Stiles to be feeling the same as him. Being nervous was a given, he had to admit. He was about to embark on the strangest, most breathtaking adventure of his dating life. He ought to give himself a break. Though Cora certainly would never, if the entire hour she had spent drilling him with questions during their lunch date was anything to go by.

Derek tightly held on to the expensive bottle of wine Cora had made him buy. Derek wasn’t a big fan of alcohol, given how it had only gotten him into trouble in the past. But he figured this was only the beginning of a night full of indulgences. The mere fact he was standing there was proof enough. Given how Cora had followed in their father’s footsteps and had learned to appreciate the art of drinking sociably, she had been far better suited for finding a bottle her brother could enjoy. If she could make him spend a couple more hundred dollars, then all the better.

He had wanted to call Cora as soon as he had finished his call with Stiles the night before. But, as his thumb hovered over her number on his phone, his mind wandered. So much so, that by the time he returned to Earth, it was much too late to be calling her. So, he had left her a message on her work number, hoping she’d agreed to lunch. He may or may not have mentioned having some news to share in hopes of her complying.

Cora hadn’t shared Erica’s shock, however. She had been ecstatic and hadn’t been afraid to show it. She hadn’t asked questions, however. Cora knew her brother well enough to know he would only share what he thought best and didn’t pressure him in any way. He walked back to his office without doing so much as giving her Stiles’ name. Cora trusted him and, he knew for a fact, would be expecting a full report once he knew more himself.

He had almost broken down, however, after his shower. Stiles had agreed to a later hour, given how Derek would only make it home by eight o’clock. Stiles had had the afternoon free and assured him whatever time was best for Derek was the time that suited him best as well. They would have dinner whenever it was more convenient, which Derek greatly appreciated. Derek stood in front of his closet, staring at the rows of clothes. He always spent so little time thinking of his work clothes he had lost his touch when it came to events such as this one. 

Cora would have been most disappointed in him. He chose, then, the outfit he was sure she would have hand picked for him, had she been there. Cora had impeccable taste in all things fashion related, so he had little trouble finding clothes she would have approved. Now, standing by the door to Stiles’ apartment, he knew he had no choice but to knock. He had arrived precisely six minutes ahead of their scheduled time and said minutes were ticking by. 

Hardly did Derek know Stiles felt the _exact_ same way. His entire career was on the line. No matter how he had been able to tell himself he hoped tonight would be worth it, his stomach was in a perpetual state of disarray. Like the feeling right before the first drop during a roller coaster ride. The food smelled amazing, but Stiles doubted he’d get to have much of it. At least, he hoped that Derek would be able to make the worst of the feeling go away. Stiles looked at the clock above the mantle and took a deep breath. 

But the air never came out. The doorbell rang a soft tune, lasting only a second longer than Stiles would have liked and he ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes scanned the living room and rested on the door to his art room. Oh, how he longed to see Derek there. The idea scared him _shitless_ so that had to count for something. Stiles huffed, shaking the thoughts away. Just open the door, he told himself. The view nearly made his heart stop. Derek’s cheeks were flushed, that was the first thing he noticed. Then he was blinded by the smile directed at him.

Stiles couldn’t help but respond in kind. He moved out of the way and welcomed Derek into his apartment. But the man’s eyes never left his face. Somehow, those piercing green eyes undressed him, right there. Stiles couldn’t help but avert his eyes. It had been such a long time since he felt so seen. Given how he had made a name for himself when it came to never being spotted, he had grown used to living in anonymity. Derek _knew_ and Stiles felt... seen. 

“Here. For you” Derek handed him the bottle and Stiles smiled. Stiles wanted to build his walls back up, but he found he couldn’t. Derek stripped himself of his coat and Stiles swallowed around the knot in his throat. Fuck, how he wanted tonight to go perfect. Derek rolled his sleeves up and Stiles gripped the bottle tighter. How could something so simple be so heightened in his presence? Stiles doubted anyone had ever had that kind of effect on him before.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Stiles chuckled, eyebrow arched in an amused question and Derek knew he meant nothing bad of it. Stiles nodded toward the kitchen and Derek followed, eyes not leaving him. Then the smell hit him. The smell of lamb stew and warm soup took him right back to his grandmother’s house, when he was just a little boy. He couldn’t help but smile at the image it brought back. His siblings, sitting across the floor in front of the fireplace, with bowls of stew in hand.

“I wouldn’t dream of it” Derek rested against the threshold, watching as Stiles stood on his tiptoes to reach for two glasses. Stiles wasn’t short, by any stretch, but still the action was endearing. He made quick work of the cork and soon enough one of those glasses had found its way into Derek’s hand “I will gladly get drunk with you”

“Oh, well. To getting drunk, then” They clinked their glasses softly together and Derek couldn’t help but hold the stare Stiles had bestowed upon him. There was still some awkwardness between them and Derek did quick work of starting a conversation. As a teenager, conversation had never come easily to him. But after years of practice thanks to his rank in society and the sheer will of wanting to please his mother, he had made considerable progress.

“I have no idea what you have prepared for me, but it reminds me of my childhood” Stiles’ smile broadened, eyebrow arched in question as he rested his hip against the kitchen counter “My mother was a terrible cook. Bless her soul, she could barely boil water without causing an accident” Stiles covered his mouth and chuckled, much to Derek’s delight. He wasn’t known for being the one who made people laugh, so this had to be promising already “My father had decided early on that he would only concern himself with his children’s education, so feeding us was grandma’s job. She was a phenomenal cook, you see. Spoiled the hell out of us”

“Come, let’s sit. We still have twenty minutes before dinner’s ready” Stiles had timed it all perfectly, it seemed. And he was happy to have Derek talking. Stiles had an aptitude for taking control of every conversation he found himself in, so he was more than happy to sit on his couch and listen to the man “My mother was phenomenal, as well. In so many aspects. My father wasn’t around much, he was the sheriff in our town. So mom taught me everything she knew”

“I never learned. Though I can fend for myself, I lack every skill a cook should have” Stiles chuckled again and tucked his legs under himself. Something in the way Derek looked at him told Stiles he was desperate to ask questions, but was choosing not to. Which Stiles appreciated immensely. He had had nightmares thinking of how people would react if they ever found out about his identity and he had woken up sweating, drowning in their questions “I would much rather stay perched on a tree in the garden, with a book. Then spend half an hour patching myself up after slipping on my way down”

“Oh, clumsy, were you?” Derek smiled brightly at the laugh Stiles had at his expense. Derek didn’t mind it one bit. He had learned, early on, that laughing with him was better than being laughed at “I was an outdoor child myself. The woods outside our house was my kingdom”

“Are you an only child?” Derek asked, resting his cheek against his hand. The glass of wine lay forgotten on his hand as he all but gave Stiles’ his full attention. Derek didn’t like talking about his family, but he had learned to move around the barriers of trauma. He’d be a terrible psychologist if he hadn’t “I come from a large family”

“I was all by my lonesome, I’m afraid” Stiles sighed, being transported back to his childhood home for a second. He set his glass on the coffee table in front of them and smiled when he noticed Derek still had his eyes on him “I did meet my best friend around that time, however. Scott is the brother I never had and we still talk, of course. Though we rarely see each other, these days”

“I work with my best friend and let me assure you, it can be a lot sometimes” Stiles chuckled, resting more comfortably against the couch. He knew their bubble would burst eventually and Stiles would have to leave to attend to the food before serving it, but he would allow himself another minute of this. Whatever ‘this’ was “I wouldn’t have it any other way, of course. Don’t ever tell her I said anything”

“Your secret’s safe with me” Derek couldn’t help but want to assure Stiles his was as well. But, somehow, he figured Stiles had to know. He had invited him, after all “Speaking of cooking, I will go make sure everything is perfect with dinner. Five minutes, no more than. Make yourself at home, please”

Stiles lifted his eyes from the pot for two seconds to find Derek was now standing, eyes on the murals of pictures he had adorning the walls. Most of them were childhood pictures, though an entire wall was dedicated to traveling and his friends. Derek found it strange that an artist’s apartment was so neat. Though he was sure Stiles had cleaned up for him, he couldn’t help but want a glimpse into the man’s world. 

The pictures helped. In them he saw a smiling Stiles, surrounded by people he clearly loved. He immediately recognized the woman who now adorned his own wall. Claudia. Stiles was the spitting image of her, with the same hair and eyes, same skin even. He couldn’t be more different from his father, who Derek found in only one picture. He spotted the one who had to be Scott, given how many pictures of him there were. A vet, apparently. 

Derek heard Stiles approach and offered to help, but Stiles dismissed him with a smile. Derek was sure Stiles enjoyed this very much, not only the cooking but hosting people. He did perfectly. The table was set with a white linen towel, simple and elegant. They were to sit side by side, Derek noticed. Not friends, indeed. He bit his lip to keep from smiling.

“I present to you my grandmother’s secret winter recipe” Stiles gestured for him to sit and Derek couldn’t help but inhale deeply. It truly did remind him of his childhood, a period of time he hadn’t visited in a long while. It brought forth all the great things about growing up and Derek took a moment to let that wash over him “I wish I could give you a better name, but that was as far as I could translate from her cookbook”

“Translate?” Derek grabbed his napkin, thanking Stiles after his plate was set in front of him. The steam alone would lift anyone’s spirits during winter, absolutely. Stiles poured them water and Derek made a mental note that alcohol wasn’t their agreed beverage. 

“My mother came from a Polish family. That’s where my last name comes from. We all spoke Polish around the house, if only to drive my father crazy at times” Stiles chuckled, choosing to grab a spoon instead of the fork Derek had gone for. The soft layer of rice on the bottom of his plate soon convinced him Stiles had had the best idea “My grandmother couldn’t speak much English, so the entirety of her cookbook was in Polish. But she spoke different dialects, including a few I’m not familiar with. I did my best”

“My father made sure we learned different languages growing up, but I stuck to good, old French. My sister, Cora, always had a taste for all things different, so she chose Mandarin, if only to challenge herself” Stiles was sure he’d love to meet the woman one day. She seemed to be cut out of the same cloth as he was. And he could see just how much Derek worshipped her “Two of my brothers could speak Spanish, so you can imagine the mess our house was at times”

Though Stiles chuckled, he chose not to dwell on his use of the past tense. Derek didn’t seem to notice Stiles had stopped his spoon midway up to his mouth, recovering not a second later. Stiles chose not to bring it up again. They were already in the business of secrets, so he figured Derek was entitled to having some of his own.

Their meal went by amazingly and smoothly. There was no topic they didn’t cover and Stiles had been shocked to discover what Derek did for a living. He had prompted the man to forget all about cleaning the dishes and they resumed their place on the couch, this time with Derek detailing his time in college and opening the clinic.

“I knew this was what I wanted to do early on” He had shrugged “I… went through a lot when I was a teenager and I had the best help money could buy. I wasn’t joking when I said my family was rich. But the help was still lacking, so, in college, I decided to do something about it. The Hale Center opened for business less than three months after graduation. Two of my close colleagues, who I admired greatly, chose to come work with me. As did Erica, of course. I wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with our finances. Soon enough we outgrew our first office building and now we are located just outside town, on Hamilton Hill”

“Of course, I remember reading about it” Stiles had read about the innovative rehabilitation programs Dr. Hale had successfully implemented within the Center’s daily activities. _Dr._ Hale was sitting on his couch. A doctor. Derek didn’t look the part at the moment, but he remembered the suits and sweaters he had seen the man wear on many occasions. He was happy to get to see him in something else “The work you do has been laying ground for new programs so I would think it’s safe to say you’ve achieved your goals”

“Thank you. Though I am hardly the one who deserves the credit” Derek chuckled, running a hand through his hair. This was the third time he did so and, though Stiles was sure he didn’t do so on purpose, it was also the third time Stiles found himself wanting to do it himself. Just reach across and pull at the strands softly with his own fingers. He longed to see Derek’s reaction “I have an amazing team and staff. People who share my views and who love what they do just as much as I do. I doubt there’s anyone more fortunate than me”

They sat in silence for all of a minute. Not because they no longer had topics to cover or because either of them had said anything offensive. Quite the contrary, Derek couldn’t remember the last time someone had matched him, both in opinion and wit. But the words that came out of Derek’s mouth shocked Stiles. He sat there, in stunned silence. He was sure Derek had already learned it to be quite difficult to strike him speechless.

“I bought one of your paintings. Your latest one” Stiles couldn’t even blink. That piece of information suddenly left him feeling so incredibly vulnerable Stiles had forgotten how to move. Derek knew, then. Knew about his mother. Stiles watched as fear crossed those green eyes, probably upon noticing Stiles’ reaction to his words. Stiles felt raw under the stare of those eyes, no matter how he didn’t find any harm in them “I wanted to tell you last night, when we spoke on the phone, but it didn’t feel like the right moment. You know I’m a fan of your work, but we agreed to talk of anything but the _Spark_. But you’ve told me so much about your family and I’m just sorry I didn’t mention it sooner”

When it was clear Stiles was still too stunned to reply, Derek sighed. He really hoped he hadn’t screwed this up. Stiles would have found out, eventually, he told himself. But he internally cursed. Maybe this hadn’t been the wisest choice of time to be so open. But hell if he wasn’t going to try. He closed his eyes and let himself be truthful. As truthful as Stiles had been in his letter to the gallery. As truthful as he had been with the painting.

“The truth is, I lost my family a long time ago. There were eleven of us, in total. My parents and my eight siblings. And I made a mistake. A terrible, juvenile mistake that cost me more than I can ever pay” Stiles had already snapped out of his own trance, shocked to see the pain in Derek’s eyes. He had used the past tense when speaking of brothers and now he had learned that Derek indeed came from a huge family. He couldn’t fathom what could have happened to them. But Derek shortly filled him in and it took all the power inside him not to cry out in utter terror “I fell in love with a woman much older than me. She was unstable and didn’t appreciate how my parents interfered in her plans. I was their eldest son and heir, so they couldn’t have me with someone they didn’t approve of. So, she did the unthinkable. She killed my family”

Derek opened his eyes to find Stiles covering his mouth with his hand. There was a whirlwind of emotions playing in those golden eyes and Derek huffed. Stiles was the first person to hear about this, apart from his closest friends. And sure enough that was an appropriate reaction. But, now that he had started, Derek chose to finish it. For better or worse, he hoped Stiles would understand why he had felt compelled to come clean about the painting. Hopefully he understood how much he related to it.

“Cora and I weren’t home that afternoon. We were the only ones who survived. There were fifteen people in the house in total, before she set fire to it. Our parents, siblings, uncle and cousins. Gone, just like that. The years that followed are a blur of pain and depression and I refuse to burden you with details about them. Cora is the light of my life, as I’m sure you’ve gathered already. I was on my way to meeting her when your painting was being delivered at the gallery. I read your letter and I don’t think anything has ever brought me to tears that fast”

Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle, though he closed his eyes at their shared pain. He bit his lip when Derek smiled, glad to see the air wasn’t so heavy anymore between them. They were speaking of difficult truths and he was happy to have the chance to explain himself.

“I wanted to buy the painting on the spot, but that strong willed lady arm wrestled me into the auction instead” Stiles' eyes sparkled at this piece of information and his smile only grew at the thought of Derek bidding on his painting. So _he_ had been the one. Then the sum came back to him. _Jeez_. Derek had spent a million dollars on his painting. He _had_ joked about his family’s fortune, but Stiles couldn’t imagine something so grand. He wasn’t scared by the thought of his money, given how Derek seemed to be so down to Earth. His parents had done a great job raising him “But I got it in the end. I hope it’s okay. I love it. It’s breathtaking. After I saw it, I couldn’t bear to see it belong to someone else”

“I’m glad you have it” Stiles found great surprise in his own sincerity. The piece had brought back so many memories he had been glad to see it gone, but he had never thought of what it would evoke in other people. Having heard what Derek had to say, now knowing more about the man than he had ever dreamed of, it gave him great joy in knowing it would be looked after. Who knows, maybe he’d even find the strength to look at it again one day “It’s perfectly okay. I just… took me by surprise, that’s all. This is very new to me, letting someone in on my secret. I never thought it could be this exhilarating”

While on the topic of exhilarating, Stiles stood. He left his glass forgotten once more on the coffee table and kicked his shoes under it. He had long since discarded them and was happy to see Derek follow his example. With his hand extended, Stiles pointed his thumb toward the apartment.

“Come. There’s something I want to show you” 

* * *

There wasn’t much to see that required a tour, so Stiles had decided to cut it short and get to the one room that really mattered. One vision alone had convinced him to show Derek who he really was and that was getting to have said man among his unfinished drawings and paintings. Stiles had chosen this very apartment because he could transform what should have been an office into a studio, of sorts. Large windows took up two of the walls and Stiles had great lighting no matter what time of day inspiration hit him. 

It had quickly grown to be messy, though Stiles hardly did a thing to tidy it up. Clean canvases were piled up against one another on the far wall, with shelves and shelves of supplies taking up the remaining one. There was a large work desk, mainly covered by drying projects. By the window, he saw an easel, with a half-done portrait of someone Stiles had invented in his mind for that damned school assignment. There was a stool, though Stiles had to admit it wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. 

When Stiles opened the door and led Derek through it, the man immediately stopped and looked at him. Almost as if asking for permission. Derek had wanted to refuse that part of the tour, no matter how his curiosity flared up at the mere prospect of getting to see more of Stiles’ world. He had found himself liking the man too much for something like this. It felt too soon. Stiles had wanted for Derek to get to know _him_ , so why now?

“You certainly can’t think me wicked enough to let you in on the secret, only to prevent you from snooping around” Stiles had a glint of pure mischief in his eyes and Derek dared to think that yes, Stiles certainly was that wicked. Though Derek was glad not to be on the receiving end of it “Besides, I know you want to ask. It’s fine by me”

“I promised tonight would be about you” Derek found himself whispering. They had barely made it past the threshold and there was very little space separating them. Stiles had to adjust himself to look up into Derek’s eyes and found the air being softly stolen from him “It’s entirely possible that I did a poor job of showing you just how much I like you. You don’t have to show me to keep me interested. I assure you I am”

Stiles would have laughed at Derek’s choice of posh words, but he couldn’t possibly tease the man when he spoke such nice things. Stiles felt the blush that took over his cheeks and, given how Derek took to examining his face, now that it was so close to his own, he knew Derek had noticed it as well. The corners of his lips curved up in a smirk and Stiles wanted to kiss it. In the name of all he held dear, he wanted to kiss this man.

So he did. He didn’t even have to take a full step forward to close the distance and was immensely rewarded with Derek inhaling deeply. They were so close Stiles could feel how their eyelashes touched and they kissed with enough force that the tip of Derek’s nose poked him quite harshly. But he didn’t mind. Derek’s hand found his hip, soon enough circled his waist entirely. Stiles allowed himself to finally run his fingers through Derek’s luxurious hair and smiled into the kiss with the moan he swallowed.

When they pulled apart, their tongues refusing to break their connection so soon, Stiles did his best to commit his taste to memory. Derek’s stubble had left his chin feeling pleasantly tender and he wanted to have that feeling all over. He smiled at the thought and, enjoying their height difference, hid his face against Derek’s neck, kissing his Adam’s apple. Derek kept him locked in an embrace and didn’t seem more inclined to let him go than Stiles was to pulling away.

“As lovely as that was and as much as I would love for it to happen again” Derek huffed and Stiles’ felt the tip of his long nose touch his own “I would still like for you to look around. You’re the only one who knows and, given everything I learned about you tonight, I’d like to hear what you have to say. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. I assure you I’m just as interested”

Derek smiled and softly moved Stiles' head until their lips connected again. Eventually, Stiles moved to rest against the threshold, arms crossed as he watched. Watched Derek as he read labels on the shelves and his long fingers touched the drawing pencils he'd forgotten to put away since last using them. Derek saw that the one thing that seemed out of place was the computer set up next to a printer on the furthest corner of the room. He didn’t think Stiles studied there, but since he was an art major, what did Derek understand of his methods? He spent a great deal of time admiring the finished pieces stashed to the side, eyes taking everything in until they rested on the canvas still on the easel.

"And who's this fellow?" Derek couldn't help but compare the art in front of him to the sketch Stiles had made of him. Derek hadn't felt the urge to ask anything about it until that very moment. A pang of jealousy ran through him and Derek hoped Stiles hadn't been watching him with as much attention as he seemed to be "Competition?"

Stiles couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh. Laugh as he finally moved inside the room and circled the table until he stopped behind Derek. Derek looked at him with what appeared to be a happy glint to his eyes when Stiles circled his waist from behind. Derek was surprisingly all hard muscle, under his clothes. And so very warm as well. Sure, Stiles had figured Derek had to work out and all, but it was still a surprise. A nice one, indeed.

"You have nothing to worry about. This canvas is for a project for my Impressionism seminar. I had to sketch someone, but let's just say I didn't feel like sharing you with my classmates" Derek huffed. So Stiles had sketched him out of pleasure. The man staring at him from the canvas didn't match with his own face in the slightest. Almost as if two completely different people had drawn them "I don't do faces. It's not my thing. Which is why this project is still undone, no matter how close my deadline is"

"So why me, then?" Derek turned in their embrace, letting his fingers brush through Stiles' misbehaving locks. His hair wasn't cut to be so unruly, but Derek was happy to see him like this. Unworried about making a good impression. Derek had spent half his life with people trying to fall into his good graces by pestering him with vain compliments. It was refreshing to find Stiles was anything but "Why sketch my face?"

"I had never seen someone with a face quite like yours before" Derek's gorgeous features turned into a frown and Stiles laughed, resting his forehead against Derek's chest for a moment "Da Vinci was the first painter to ever speak on facial symmetry. He created the patterns and standards we look for in what you could call 'the perfect face'. You, Dr. Hale, have what the great artists call the perfect face. And, in my humble opinion, I can do little but agree with all of them"

"How long did it take you?" Derek knew it was useless to try and pretend his cheeks hadn't been tinged with what felt like a permanent touch of pink. Stiles spoke with such reverence it was hard not to get lost inside those golden eyes. Derek had never imagined he'd be able to take such a heartfelt compliment. He had always shied away from them. But he couldn't. He didn't want to. Because it would mean stepping away from those arms and Derek couldn't bear that thought.

"In total? Two hours, I would say" Derek arched his brow at Stiles' crinkled nose, as he tried to calculate an accurate amount of time spent "Plus the twenty minutes it took me to make adjustments. I drew you from memory, which isn't my favorite thing to do. I would much rather have you pose for me. I got some things wrong, I'm ashamed to admit. Mostly your eyebrows. I couldn't possibly sign my name under an imperfect sketch”

Derek chose to ignore what the meaning of ‘pose’ represented. Flashes of himself sitting on that stool, with Stiles’ eyes free to roam his body ran through his mind and Derek didn’t want Stiles knowing the blushing now came from those thoughts. They both turned to the incomplete canvas and Stiles sighed. Derek couldn’t help but smile at Stiles’ distaste for the project. He also couldn’t help but notice none of the projects were signed by the _Spark_. This was all Stiles. What seemed to be hundreds of paintings and drawings occupied that room and Derek felt honored to be let in.

“As for the _Spark_ , it all started in this very room. Shocking, I know. I’m careful not to leave any evidence of it out in the open” Stiles gestured toward the computer, softly shaking the mouse until the screen came alive. He clicked a few icons and soon enough a folder remained open “This computer is solely for that use. It’s password protected and you’d have to find your way through a maze of empty folders and misleading files in order to find my _Spark_ stuff. Even I get lost sometimes”

Stiles gestured for Derek to take the chair and his eyes grew impossibly large. Stiles was letting him have a look. For the second time, Derek’s eyes flew to his and Stiles nodded, smiling. He softly gestured to the chair with his chin and Derek sat, almost as if he were sitting at an exam with the entirety of the answers memorized after buying them from another student. He felt like he was doing something incredibly wrong and yet it was exhilarating. 

Hovering over him, Stiles showed Derek everything. The process behind previous sketches, all while explaining how he went about buying supplies and sneaking around town to complete works that took up so much space. Stiles showed him the art for the flyers from a few months before and told him just how much he had hated the work with spray paint. They had shared a laugh at the telling of Stiles coming home with ruined clothes and how he had to buy a new set of towels. Red spray paint just doesn’t come off easily.

“I had the idea for the movement long before I had a name for it. Of course, I had no idea people would grow so fond of it and support it as they have” Stiles sank on the couch once more, feeling light. Derek knew. There. He knew everything. And Stiles felt raw, like an exposed nerve. And it felt good. He had been lying for months now and it felt amazing to come clean. He took great pride in his work and, during the first few weeks, with all the media coverage and speculation, it had been hard for him to remain anonymous. It had almost gotten to his head “My mother used to call me her _Iskra_ , which is Polish for _Spark_. It fit, you know? I wanted to spark change in the world and in people, so it seemed perfect”

Derek sat next to him on the couch once more, only much closer this time. It was incredible to think how much things had developed between them. And how right it felt. Derek had seemed shy at first, but had been so open with him Stiles couldn’t help but appreciate him for being there even more. His hesitation in entering his world had laid any doubt he had to rest. Stiles wanted him. Wanted this to work. 

Derek had no idea where the courage to do what he did next came from. The last thing he wanted was to rush this, when it felt so new and promising. They were so similar in some ways and vehemently different in others. There was a push and pull between them and the banter roamed free in between the lines of their conversations. It wasn’t something that came naturally to him, talking to people. He had sometimes found great solace in hardly ever having to pursue a partner. He let people come to him, the few who tried, of course.

And, in minutes, he’d turn them down. They all lacked, somehow. Lacked the brains to keep up with him in conversation, or didn’t even share a single topic of interest with him. Common ground had always been what he believed brought people together, if his parents’ relationship was anything to go by. His parents had been promised to each other from birth, what with his mother’s position and his father being the heir of his family. Their love had grown from being more similar than they had initially thought. 

Though his parents had never pressured him to date and, Heaven forbid, settle down without being certain he felt even the smallest attraction to said person, Derek hadn’t been able to stop himself from taking the things they had said to heart. He didn’t want to marry someone out of interest. After the fire, he had been pressured by the society circles his family belonged in to find a wife. A wife! Derek had scoffed at the silly remarks behind his back and had moved onto college and making sure Cora had nothing but the best.

Over a decade had passed and he hadn’t settled yet. Neither had Cora. His family’s state and wealth were his, along with side businesses and many people had questioned his ability as a guardian to his sister to make sure she lived up to their expectations. At twenty-four, she should have been long married. He should have been an uncle by now. And yet, Derek had assured her, time and time again, that she was under no such pressures. Neither was he. Her happiness was all that mattered to him.

Their money had protected them, Derek was sad to know that. People respected their name and titles too much to ever say those things to his face. It wasn’t, however, until he had made a name for himself, that the rumors stopped. Dr. Hale wasn’t a title you mess with. Not in New York City’s high society. Thalia Hale’s son had done right by his family and that was all that mattered in the end. 

Though Derek would never admit to it, many of Erica’s chosen champions had followed in on the footsteps of the people Derek had grown up with. Ever since being out in society, as the sole heir of the Hale klan, Derek had been surrounded by people who wanted his money and connections. It had narrowed his circles immensely. He didn’t trust people, no matter how well Erica meant by them. 

Which was why it had been such a shock for him to accept this date. Stiles being the _Spark_ aside, Derek had feared his name and money would either change the way Stiles treated him or scare him away. The amount of money he had spent on his painting surely hadn’t helped his case, but there was no changing it. Derek was rich, had grown up in a wealthy family. And it was such a relief when Stiles didn’t bat an eye at his last name or his grand gesture. It was incredibly refreshing to have found someone like him.

He found himself staring into those golden eyes and brought Stiles in for another kiss. The man was his to do with what he wanted, Derek noticed. Stiles was compliant and moaned softly against his mouth. His fingers tangled themselves into his hair and Derek sighed, pulling him closer. He hadn’t made out with someone in so long he felt out of practice. But, if Stiles shared the opinion, he didn’t show it. In fact, he pushed Derek down until he was laying on the couch and followed his mouth not a moment later.

The kiss soon enough grew heated. Derek closed his eyes and let his hands roam Stiles’ body. Through the shirt he wore, Derek felt lean muscles and soft skin. Said skin, he wanted desperately to touch. Stiles’ hands were on the couch for support, leaving him wanting for his touch. But Derek settled for doing the touching himself. Stiles smiled against his neck, his tongue rubbing softly against his stubble as Derek let his shirt roll up a bit.

Stiles moaned against his chest, softly biting his pec when Derek’s hands met his skin. Stiles was burning hot under his palms and Derek groaned, wanting nothing to separate them. Which was why he smiled when Stiles pulled away completely, sitting on Derek’s lower abdomen to peel out of the shirt. The fabric landed on the ground soundlessly and Stiles guided his hands to him in a soft gesture of permission.

Stiles closed his eyes and enjoyed this. Enjoyed being touched with such hunger and care. Derek kept his hands steady in their trail, his nipples soon victims of his ministrations. Stiles smiled, biting his lip as he let his eyes meet Derek’s again. Derek’s lips were parted and his eyelids were heavy with pleasure. Derek groaned when Stiles shuffled, the bulge in his pants just as large as his own. Stiles smiled, bending again to capture his mouth.

Swift fingers acted quickly and soon enough Derek’s belt was on the ground. Derek had been too lost in his haze to notice what was happening, but he soon came back to reality. His thoughts must have been clear on his face, because Stiles stopped, running his fingers through his hair, concern overtaking his eyes.

“Too much, got it” Stiles tried to stand, but Derek didn’t let him. It was a lot, indeed, but Derek would be damned if he walked away from this. If Stiles was willing, then to hell with all of his doubts and fears. He wanted the man far too much to let himself back down now “Derek…”

“I want this” Derek spoke before Stiles could protest any more. Derek reached for his hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing each knuckle patiently. His blood was still pumping much too fast, but he couldn’t possibly take his eyes from the sight on top of him. Stiles was beautiful and funny and loyal and Derek _wanted_ him. He wouldn’t fail to tell Stiles just how much “Just promise me a second date and I’m all yours”

Stiles’ face lit up. A smile threatened to split his face in two and he bent forward, happy to swallow the groan Derek let out upon his body shifting on top of him. Oh, he wanted more of that. He wanted to make Derek come undone and he wanted to own every little sound Derek was willing to give him.

“Deal”


	6. Belonged to the Same Circles

Stiles could easily get used to waking up with a smile on his face. The cool tip of Derek’s nose brushed gently against the skin of his neck and Stiles groaned, letting his hand climb to the man’s hair. Derek left a trail of open mouthed kisses against his neck and Stiles was positively aware of his body hovering inches from his own. Stiles felt absolutely and deliciously sore and relaxed, all at once. It had been a while since he had allowed himself to be taken like he had the night before and he had been happy to let Derek be the one.

“Please tell me it’s still very early and we can enjoy this” Stiles mumbled into the dark room and was rewarded with Derek’s soft chuckle. It wasn’t until Stiles circled his hips that Derek let their bodies touch and Stiles moaned at their nakedness. He would have blushed at his own erection, weren’t the friction between his and Derek’s bodies so good, the man above him gladly returning the groan of pleasure “I’m not ready to leave this bed just yet”

“By my calculations, we have just enough time to drag this out a little more” Stiles couldn’t help but throw his head back when Derek applied more pressure. Their cocks slid together and the friction made his eyes shoot open. Derek’s mouth never moved far from his neck and Stiles pulled at the strands of his hair, nails digging into his naked shoulders “Is this okay?”

“ _Yes_ ” Derek had asked the exact same question the night before and Stiles had answered in kind on both occasions. Derek had a special talent for turning him on with mere words or soft touches and Stiles found out he’d be willing to throw caution to the winds any time Derek merely looked at him. Which was why he circled Derek’s hips with his legs more tightly and pulled him even closer. Derek growled against his neck, making Stiles giggle in delight.

Derek allowed himself to forget everything that existed outside Stiles’ bedroom. They had moved there the night before and Derek had been more than happy to stay once Stiles asked him to. He forgot all about meetings and scheduled appointments. Forgot about the party he was to attend this weekend upstate and everything in between this moment and the next time he’d get to see Stiles. All that mattered was the man under him.

Derek moved barely enough so he could wet his palm with the precum already leaking from his own cock and use it to lube himself up. The feeling of Stiles’ dick against his own was good, but harsh. So, he spit on his hand and wrapped a hand around their cocks. Stiles bit his lips, exposing his neck even more to Derek’s hungry mouth. Derek could see that the skin was becoming tender and pink and he did his best not to aggravate it even further. 

Stiles matched his pace thrust for thrust and soon enough, the two of them panted in unison. Dawn was rapidly approaching and light slowly spilled into the room. The rays of sunlight illuminated Derek’s skin and his eyes were no longer sharp, but molten, the heat of their passion causing them to grow darker. Derek was by far the most handsome man Stiles had ever seen and he would never dare ask what he had done to get his attention.

With their foreheads touched together, Stiles kept his eyes open as Derek’s orgasm got closer. There was something magnificent in watching Derek cum. The way he closed his eyes and squeezed whatever part of Stiles he had found. Stiles felt the cum pool against his navel, making him smile at the heat. Derek gritted his teeth and hid his face against Stiles’ neck. His hips didn’t stop, however. Even though his cock had softened after cumming, he kept going, using the cum and heat to throw Stiles over the edge.

They remained in each other’s embrace until they were able to control their breathing. But the serenity of the moment was broken the second the piercing cry of a phone ringing was heard from the living room. Derek groaned, leaving a kiss to Stiles’ collarbone before untangling himself from his arms and legs.

“That would be Erica letting me know I’m already late” Stiles barely had time to admire the gorgeous sight of Derek’s ass as the man walked toward the living room to find his phone before jumping from the bed at the sight of his alarm clock. He still had time, but it was already much later than he would have liked it to be.

Stiles walked into his bathroom, wetting a part of the hand towel and cleaning himself up before the cum dried. He walked into the living room to find Derek folding their clothes, with his phone against his cheek and shoulder. Derek smiled at the sight of Stiles, who walked up to him and took it upon himself to clean Derek as well.

Stiles bit his lip through a smile at Derek smiling, looking up at the ceiling, as if begging to find the strength to resist him. Stiles took his time, teasing him, not that Derek tried to stop him. Quite the contrary, actually. Stiles heard him talk to who he assumed was Erica about the day’s schedule and smiled at Derek’s eyes rolling. By the time he hung up, Stiles had only been standing there, arm loosely hugging Derek’s waist.

“I’m sorry we don’t have more time” Derek spoke, leaving his phone to open the Uber app while he reached for his clothes. Stiles sighed and moved to let the man get dressed. His class wouldn’t start for another hour, but he understood Derek still had to go home and change before making his way to the outskirts of town, where the clinic was located “I owe you breakfast, at least”

“Worry not, Dr. Hale. You have already made my morning, if not my entire day” Stiles gladly received the kiss Derek pulled him into. Within minutes, Derek was good to go, looking just as presentable as he had the night before. The only indication of their nightly activities was his hair, which seemed hell bent on misbehaving this morning “Besides, you have more than proven yourself capable of distracting me, and I have less than twenty four hours to finish getting ready for this Saturday’s seminar. But, since we have both agreed to a second date, how about I hold you to said breakfast on Sunday?”

“There is a rather boring event I must attend tomorrow night, but it surely won’t be half as bad if I have you to look forward to” Derek spoke through a large smile and Stiles was very pleased with himself for being the reason it was there. Derek circled his waist, pulling him closer even though he ignored the notifications from his phone “Text me the time and place and I’ll be there. Have a good day today”

“You too” Stiles walked Derek to the door and smiled into the kiss he was pulled into. It was sure going to be an amazing day, alright.

* * *

“You are half an hour late” Erica spoke, though Derek didn’t detect a single drop of reprimand on her voice. In fact, she quickly followed him into his office, closing the door. Derek was well aware he had less than ten minutes before his first meeting of the day and he still needed to turn his computer on and get himself a cup of coffee. Today had been one of the rare occasions he had had someone drive him to work and he had to admit it was much more comfortable “In all the years I’ve known you, not even a harsh cold could keep you from arriving on time. _Tell_ me it’s because of last night”

Derek stopped what he was doing and rested his hands on his hips. The look of pure delight and expectation on her face made sure he couldn’t be angry at her for asking. His spirits were still soaring high in the sky and he couldn’t help but want to share his good mood with his friend. A smile started tugging at his lips and Erica covered her mouth, her laugh echoing down the hall in spite of the closed door.

“It is! Oh, my God, _finally_!” Erica laughed wholeheartedly, standing up and coming up to hug him. Derek wasn’t one for open displays of affection like this, but he allowed it. Erica had been like a sister to him since the day they had met and he knew all she wanted was to see him happy. Which went both ways, of course, though he had promised to stay out of her asking their coworker out. Derek wanted her to be happy, but had never said a word apart from that day on the subway “I’m happy for you, Derek. Really”

“Thank you. But the details are going to have to wait, because like you said, I’m late. Tell Abigail to get me a cup of coffee, will you? I need to get my notes before the meeting starts” Erica nodded, promptly making her way toward the door, though Derek called her name once more. He had been typing his password into his computer, but lifted his eyes to hers “And, hey. Don’t think I forgot about you asking Boyd out. We’re not done talking about that”

* * *

Derek had barely gotten out of the shower before noticing the texts that had come in. He had spent over an hour on the phone with Stiles that morning, while Stiles waited for his turn to present his work, but it hadn’t been enough. Conversation still came easily to them and Stiles had told him all about the seminar results and his plans for the evening. Derek had told him about the party he’d been invited to, along with Cora. Derek wasn’t one for this kind of event, especially since he was under the obligation of going. 

But knowing he could reach Stiles made the night seem bearable. Cora, obviously, was the perfect dancing partner and he split his time between exchanging pleasantries with people he barely knew and dancing with his sister, who was always kind enough to accompany him. If he checked his phone a few too many times throughout the night, no one seemed to notice. Cora had just been making her way back from the powder room when she squeezed his arm a little too tight, the device almost falling from his grasp.

“Isn’t Justin Thibaudeau the name of that fancy French doctor you wrote your Master’s thesis on?” Derek couldn’t possibly imagine how Cora remembered the name, given how she had never once cared about his academic endeavors. Cora had been his number one supporter when it came to the clinic, but she was far from well versed in the world of modern psychology. Still, he nodded at her, wanting to know what could have caused her to look so flustered “Well, he’s _here_. Tonight. It’s all the women gossiped about in the bathroom. Name sounded familiar, but it wasn’t until they spoke of him being a psychologist, that I remembered”

Not a moment later, Derek was called by one of his colleagues from college to meet the man. They crossed the dance floor, with Cora on his arm. Though he had no idea what to expect from him personally, Derek still would have prefered to meet him at a different time and place. The music and the people made it hard to conduct conversation. And the way the man had his eyes on Cora surely didn’t help his case at all. 

“Dr. Hale, what a pleasure! I was so honored you mentioned me in your thesis, such fantastic work, indeed” Derek was a little taken aback by the compliment. He had never expected the man with far more knowledge than him to know about his Masters. The man’s handshake was firm and he spoke with close to no accent to his English. Derek barely had time to thank him before his education kicked in and he introduced Cora “Ah, Miss Cora Hale, the fashion designer. My niece is a great admirer of your work”

Derek had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Though he trusted Cora’s innate ability for spotting good and decent men, it didn’t mean he had to stand there and watch her melt under his gaze. He wouldn’t put her through that with Stiles. The thought alone shook him to his core. He was by no means dating Stiles, no matter their plans for the following morning. Derek was still surprised to think of himself introducing Cora to him. Though Stiles had proved to be pretty much perfect all around, that was a step he had never taken with anyone before.

He couldn’t help but smile. Derek felt happy. Stiles had made him happy. He wouldn’t be cruel as to deny his sister the same feeling. And so, he stood there, watching as Dr. Thibaudeau asked Cora to dance, holding her purse. If anything, at least he’d have plenty to tell Stiles in the morning. Noting the time on his phone, only then did he notice a text from Stiles, wishing him a good night. It was well past midnight and Derek decided not to disturb him in case he had already gone to bed.

In the car, on the way home, Cora had her head resting against his shoulder. Derek knew she wasn’t asleep, given how her bare feet were tapping along to the soft music playing from the speakers. He rested his cheek on top of her head and squeezed her hand.

“I think it’s safe to say you have a new admirer” Cora chuckled, lifting herself from her comfortable position to look up at him. Derek could never find a man to be worthy of his sister, but he wasn’t blind to what made her happy. That was all that truly mattered to him “He didn’t take his eyes from you after I introduced you”

“He was very charming. And a good dancer too” Cora bit her lip and she seemed lost in thought for a moment. She shook her head softly and rested back against his shoulder. Derek had long since given her his jacket and she snuggled further into it, ready to doze off the rest of the way to her apartment “But I don’t know, Der. He could have asked for my phone number, but he didn’t”

“His loss, then” Derek kissed the top of her head, passing his arm around her. Cora chuckled, too tired to say anything else.

* * *

Derek had been surprised to see a ‘J. Thibaudeau, M.D.’ scheduled two days later. He had been on the phone with Stiles upon entering the clinic and was running his eyes through his appointments for the day when he saw the change for his two p.m. 

“Derek? Am I bugging you?” Derek shook himself out of the feelings, walking the rest of the way towards his office. His secretary had already left him his mail and his computer was already on. She was going to come in with coffee any time now “You just stopped talking for a few seconds”

“No, of course not. You could never bug me” Derek ran a hand through his fingers, missing Stiles. The man giggled on the other side of the line and he found himself missing that sound in person all the more. They hadn’t seen each other since Sunday, given their crazy schedules, but had plans for dinner that night “Remember the doctor I told you about? At the party on Saturday?”

“Yeah, the one who didn’t get Cora’s phone number. We shall not speak his name” Derek chuckled, knowing that sentence alone would get him enough points with Cora to last him a lifelong friendship with her, no matter what happened between them “What about him?”

“I just checked my schedule and he’s my two p.m. appointment today” Derek grabbed the sheet of paper again, just to make sure he hadn’t misread the information. But his certification number was registered and everything, which meant he had called and had the meeting scheduled “Which he wasn’t yesterday, I can tell you for sure. I wonder what he could want”

“Maybe that’s why he didn’t ask Cora out. Because he planned on doing business with you” Derek had to admit that idea sounded plausible and reasonable. He pondered on it for a moment, but soon decided against it. He had other patients to see and lunch to have with the kids, so he chose not to dwell on it much longer “If anything, you’ll get to ask him today. Are we still on for tonight?”

“Absolutely. Pick you up at 7?” 

After half of a very productive day passing him by in what felt like a blur of motion, phone calls and appointments, Derek found himself at a complete loss for what Dr. Thibaudeau could possibly want. He hadn’t expressed any interest in Derek’s work, given how he hadn’t engaged him in conversation on Saturday and hadn’t given his sister much hope either, with how he said his goodnites as soon as their dance was over.

He welcomed Dr. Thibaudeau at precisely 2:02 p.m., not wanting to leave him waiting. The man was renowned in their field and, in spite of all the questions Derek wanted to ask, he wouldn’t dream of disrespecting him. Dr. Thibaudeau was wearing a suit almost as fancy as the tux he sported at the party, having remained standing in the waiting room. Derek had chosen the art on the walls carefully, to evoke peace and tranquility, but had never expected to find anyone actually looking at them.

“Please, call me Justin. May I call you Derek?” His name was the first word Derek heard even the slightest hint of an accent on and could imagine Cora would think it was cute. The man was very handsome, and clearly a decade older than Derek. His handshake was just as strong as Derek remembered and he soon enough followed Derek further into the clinic “You have built a fantastic rehabilitation center, I was just reading more on it”

“Thank you. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine, actually. I have an amazing staff, who is just as passionate as I am” Derek gestured towards the walls of pictures that decorated the hall opposite from his office. Though the clinic had been painted in bright shades of colors and Derek made sure to keep the activities in their own respective rooms, he had never been averted to the idea of previous patients and team members leaving their mark on the walls. Which was why they had an entire wall dedicated to art made by their patients and pictures of the staff during said activities. 

“But why mention me, then? You work mostly with children and teenagers, am I right?” Derek nodded, leading the man further down the hall. The house they had built had been designed to accommodate over two hundred full time patients and Derek guided Justin to see the home quarters, the kitchen, the cafeteria and the exit to the gardens “Though I’m positive your arts program would be beneficial to patients of all ages with all kinds of trauma, I don’t see how my work relates to yours”

Derek spent the next hour explaining why he had connected with Justin’s work. He briefly explained his own trauma with sex and family and how his work on the effects of poor sexual development in the early stages of a man’s life could be detrimental to character building and later to self image and self confidence. Justin proved to be a good listener, as all psychologists tended to be, not once interrupting Derek through his narrative.

“I hope you don’t find my bluntness rude, Derek. I’d like to apologize for leaving so abruptly on Saturday. Now that I know a little more about you, I’d like to ask your permission to ask your sister on a date” Derek’s shock must have been right on his face, because Justin softly huffed, his hands clasped behind his back “Call me old fashioned, I guess. Well, I _am_ old, I suppose” Justin spoke, laughing. Though Derek couldn’t barely manage a scoff, he was still so surprised “I would have asked on Saturday, but I was raised to do these things a certain way. If you say no, then she won’t hear from me. I will understand”

Derek took only a second before replying. Though Cora had done her best to shrug off his rude behavior, Derek simply knew her all too well. She had liked him and, even though Derek’s first instinct was to tell him to fuck off for hurting her feelings, Derek would never stand in the way of her being happy. If Justin would do right by her, then he had Derek’s blessing.

“I give you my permission to call her. As for her agreeing, there’s not much I can do to persuade her. You’ll learn soon enough no man could ever force Cora into anything she doesn’t want” Justin had a large smile on his face, clearly relaxed now that the topic had been dealt with “But, if you were to take her to that nice Italian restaurant on the corner of Madison, she’ll hardly say no”

* * *

Derek sighed as he rested against the car. His driver stood a few comfortable feet away. He had decided to try having a driver for once, given how he remembered having one as a child and how Cora still partook in that practice. It was certainly better than the subway. Though he was grateful for Stiles, he couldn’t deny it. Mr. Reynolds had worked for their family for many years and was thankful for the promotion to personal staff member. Derek’s penthouse required work, even though he was the only person living there full-time. He had a housekeeper and plenty of security, also a cleaning team and a personal assistant he had never needed until the clinic opened. 

He had quickly learned that Stiles didn’t give a shit about his money. Didn’t give a shit about what clothes he wore, or the university he had gone to. All he cared about was Derek and how well they fit together, on a physical level, but also to an intellectual extent. They could talk for hours, about nothing in particular and never feel like more than five minutes had passed. Derek had never found someone like him and was more than happy to do whatever he had to in order to keep him. 

Something told him, a little voice in the back of his mind, that that was way too much power for someone to have over him. But he told himself he deserved this. After all the misfires and disasters he had faced, he deserved something good. And that something was walking down the steps to his apartment building, with a huge smile on his gorgeous face. Stiles was all long and lean, such a nice contrast to Derek himself. He wore jeans on a daily basis and wasn’t bothered by the paint stains on his hands. Derek loved his unruly hair and every mole adorning his skin. Derek had made him giggle not two days before by kissing as many as he could find.

Stiles seemed ready to hug him right then and there, but saw Mr. Reynolds stood there and seemed to choose against it. Derek smiled at his confused expression and made the first move, for a change. He moved away from the car to encircle Stiles’ waist, pulling him close. Stiles seemed relieved that touching was still okay, arms around Derek’s shoulders. Derek hid his face against Stiles’ neck, softly rubbing his beard against the soft skin. Stiles sighed, squeezing him in return. 

“Mr. Reynolds will be accompanying me for a few days, while I test this having a driver thing” Stiles arched his brow, but figured he shouldn’t be that surprised. He had always wondered why a man with the means and money like Derek would take the subway to work. Though it had added to his charm at the time, Stiles figured he couldn’t hold it against him for his change of heart “Don’t worry, he’s well paid to keep my secrets, as is all my personal staff”

“So, if I were to kiss you…” Derek chuckled and pulled away, arms still securing Stiles to his chest. Stiles was almost an entire head shorter and would have to stand on his tiptoes to kiss Derek, but neither of them seemed to mind. In fact, Derek very much appreciated the fact, for some reason. It brought out all the protectiveness inside of him “... that would be okay?”

“More than okay” Derek gladly let Stiles pull him down and connect their mouths. They had spent two whole days apart and Derek promised he would try to avoid such a thing in the future. He could stand in that very second forever. With Stiles’ warmth tight against his own body and his mouth open for him to take. There wasn’t much else he could want “Speaking of okay, I think it’s only fair you see my place. Since you’ve shown me yours”

“Already trying to secure a fourth date with me, Dr. Hale?” Stiles threw his head back and laughed that wholehearted kind of laugh you can’t help but laugh along with. His hand moved to Derek’s hair and his fingers softly ran through the strands. Those golden eyes were bright with delight and Derek would do anything to keep him looking that happy “I would love to. But… I’m not sure I’m ready to see the painting again, Derek”

The whispered words surprised Derek for only a moment. It had been insensitive of him to suggest such a thing, even though he hadn’t even thought about the painting before speaking. It made sense, of course it did. Stiles’ mother wasn’t a topic he liked talking about and Derek would be damned if he put Stiles through something like that. That very idea went against everything he hoped for them and Derek didn’t care if he had to take the painting down for now. 

“Then you won’t see it. Not until you want to. Promise. Cross my heart” Stiles smiled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Derek pulled him closer, leaving a kiss to his forehead. Derek didn’t have to look at Mr. Reynolds for the man to understand what should be done. He merely turned to the car and the door to the backseat was already open. He led Stiles to it by the hand and let him get in first “How about this Saturday? I work until two, then I’m all yours”

“You work on Saturdays?” Stiles asked with surprise. He hadn’t stopped to think about Derek working before the party he had had to attend. Then he immediately thought back to the hour they had spent on the phone that morning, with Derek keeping him distracted before his presentation and couldn’t help but feel guilty with taking so much of his time “Did you work last Saturday? Because jeez, the last thing I wanted was to keep you from your job”

“No, don’t worry” Derek smiled, nodding at Mr. Reynold to take them to the restaurant Derek had already informed him about. The radio was playing some soft tune, though Derek couldn’t identify the song or artist. The kind of music that made the charts these days wasn’t the kind he liked listening to, if he were being honest. He reached for Stiles’ hand, happy to have the man intertwine their fingers “I don’t work most Saturdays, but I do have patients that can only see me one Saturday of every month, so I make the exception. I was at home when we spoke. But tell me, what did you get up to today?”

Stiles ranted for a few minutes about a teacher he hated and shortly told him about the fight that broke out about their graduation ceremony. Derek made a note to ask more on the topic. Derek still remembered his own graduation and how uneventful it had been. If he could stop Stiles’ from going down the same path, then he certainly would. Stiles then moved on to telling him about going on a supply run on the way home and his frustration upon not finding the pencils he wanted. 

By the time they had arrived at the restaurant, Stiles had already voiced how he couldn’t rely on the university for supplies like he used to. Art programs were rarely sponsored these days, which was why he was so thankful that the _Spark_ had taken it upon himself to try and change that. Derek had earned a wink and a smile from Stiles and Derek saw another side of the movement he hadn’t thought of before. It made him think of his own arts program and how he had supported it out of his own pocket until the clinic could afford it.

Stiles wasn’t surprised to be led inside a rather nice restaurant, of a type of cuisine he didn’t immediately recognize. But he was surprised that the maitre recognized Derek before he spoke. And to top it all off, Derek called him by name in return. Stiles could only imagine how much Derek frequented the place. The atmosphere was rather open and bright for a restaurant serving dinner, but Stiles found he liked the place quite a lot. It was well decorated and evoked a lot of tranquility in him. And whatever they were cooking smelled amazing.

“Your usual table is ready for you, Dr. Hale” The man guided them through the half full room, to a more secluded table set for two at the very back. It was right by the largest window and Stiles was thankful they would get some peace and quiet during their dinner. It wasn’t their first outing, per se, but Stiles was overtaken with butterflies in his stomach at the fact that Derek didn’t let go of his waist for a second as he let him walk first “How about a bottle of wine while you inspect the menu, Dr. Hale? We’ve made quite a few changes since you were last with us”

“Not tonight, Jacob. Cora is the drinker, but don’t tell her I said that” Derek turned to Stiles sitting across the table from him and smiled. He was happy to find Stiles’ cheeks were flushed and he smiled brightly in return. Derek paid attention. He wasn’t a drinker and the fact that Derek remembered meant a lot to him “How about some sparkling water while we look through those changes? Ice for you?”

“And lemon, please” When Jacob, their waiter nodded and retreated to the kitchen, Derek didn’t reach for the menu in front of him right away. Instead, he reached for Stiles’ hand, thumb caressing his knuckles, one by one “Pardon my stating the obvious, but you come here a lot”

“I do, with Cora” Derek smiled, the same smile that always took over his face when speaking about his sister. This was why Stiles had always wanted siblings. The love, protection, partnership and care that came with such a bond had been denied him and Stiles felt robbed of the experience “She has her favorite place, this is mine. They serve Greek food here, but it’s not as intimidating as it sounds. I… bought it a few months ago”

“You… you own this place?” Stiles couldn’t help but keep the shock evident on his face. Derek shrugged, chuckling. He kept a soft grip on Stiles’ hand, finger playing with his longer ones. He was particularly interested in a blue stain in between his thumb and index finger “Is that why you call each other by the first name?”

“Oh, no. Jacob has been treating me like this for a long time now. The chef was an old friend of my father’s. This place is much older than it looks” Stiles nodded, looking at the build with a different set of eyes. He tried imagining a younger Derek sitting on that table and could understand buying it, if it held such a meaning for him “It wasn’t until about six months ago that he told me the place was about to declare bankruptcy. And I… I wasn’t ready to let go of all the memories I have of this place. Birthdays, Cora’s first kiss. So, I made an offer. I have no idea how to run a restaurant, so I leave it up to them. I brought in investors and the place has been doing really well since then”

“Please, do tell where the business gene comes from” Derek chuckled, happy to have Stiles’ hand grip his in return. Stiles rested his cheek on his hand, elbow on the table as those golden eyes seemed to take him in for the first time since Sunday “Does Cora also run her own business? Is that a Hale thing?”

“Coincidentally, Cora does run her own business. We were never taught to pursue such a thing, though” Derek shrugged again. He had never stopped to think of himself as a businessman, though the term ‘businesswoman’ absolutely applied to Cora. But he had to admit nothing else seemed to fit. Though he was a psychologist, first and foremost, he had to admit he’d stop at nothing to get to keep the things he loved. He was just happy to have the means to achieve it “I suppose mom is to blame. She shouldered the burden of an arranged marriage, her first child and the management of her family’s state at seventeen. I guess that’s why we were all overachievers”

“What do you mean, an arranged marriage?” Stiles had thought such a thing had ended a century ago, but if Derek’s mother had had her first child at seventeen, and Derek was the second oldest, she couldn’t have been more than forty at the time of her death. To think of something happening not less than fifty years before seemed like such a distant possibility, but he had no reason to distrust Derek.

“My parents both came from rich families. Their parents belonged to the same circles. That means: same clubs, same restaurants, same sororities. They thought it would be advantageous for them if their kids were to wed one day. Luckily for them, fate would have it they would have the perfect match: a boy and a girl, of roughly the same age” Derek’s eyes focused on their hands and Stiles then knew it was hard for Derek to open up about his family. Though Stiles was thankful he did, he wished he could find the words to tell Derek the last thing he wanted was to hurt him by asking questions he didn’t want to answer. Especially when he had been so keen on not letting him face his mother’s portrait if he didn’t want to “So, they were promised to each other, from birth. Married at sixteen and had my sister, Laura at the early age of seventeen. Dad hardly ever spoke of this period. He told me after much insistence on my part. He always said he hated talking about the time he had been too stupid to see the amazing woman my mother was”

“But they were so young, it was hardly his fault” Stiles was relieved to see a smile back on Derek’s face. Stiles tried to think about it for a moment. Not getting to choose who he married or when he wanted to have children. He couldn’t imagine giving up control like that, even if to his own parents. The thought of sleeping with someone with the sole intention of having an heir was shocking to him.

“I know. But I also know it was all they knew. They hadn’t been raised to think they stood a chance at love outside the bonds of the contract” Derek had always thought of himself as selfish, because he was thankful for Laura being the first to be born. And also that his family was more than happy to train her as the heir to the Hale family. But Laura’s health had proven unsteady and Derek was soon named the heir of the klan. He still remembered his father sitting him down for that talk “I don’t know when exactly they started to care for each other, but I suspect I had already been born. My grandparents died not long after Cora was born and, with three young kids of pretty much the same age, ther marriage was strained, at best”

“Excuse me for asking, but why have the three of you? If this was an arranged marriage and an heir would have sufficed, then why have three children when they didn’t want to?” Stiles asked, hoping he hadn’t overstepped any lines.

“All clauses in a contract, I’m afraid” Derek sighed, clearly lost in his own mind “Though I never felt any less loved by either of them, we were all just clauses in a contract, for a while. Laura, Cora and myself. We were born long before there was any love between them. Mom was under so much pressure after inheriting so many responsibilities she failed twice to conceive. So, they decided to stop until she had better control over things. Dad had his own fair share of duties to his side of the family. It wasn’t until they stopped fulfilling their marriage on paper that they realized they had things in common and voila, love bloomed”

There was such a large smile on Derek’s face that Stiles couldn’t imagine how much had changed in their lives after his parents truly started loving each other. Though Derek clearly believed he was dearly loved by both of his parents, it was different, it had to be. He was born out of a contract, that had to be weird.

“Which is why I guess mom and dad never raised us like they were raised, much to grandma’s disappointment. Laura’s health deemed her unfit for the role of heir, so I was trained from an early age to take over the family one day” Stiles arched an eyebrow at that. Derek spoke with such nonchalance about the matter, as if such a weight falling on his shoulders had truly been nothing. And Stiles had to imagine it wasn’t. For someone with as much power as Derek, he could only imagine how different his upbringing must have been “They raised us to find our own partners in life. They vowed the arrangement of marriages would end with theirs and you don’t know how thankful I am for that”

They would have never met otherwise. Or, even worse, might have met but Derek would have turned him down. Because he would have been promised to someone else. Jeez, Stiles couldn’t help but shiver at the idea. And something about Derek’s smile told him he knew it wasn’t from the cold. Derek lifted Stiles’ hand to his lips and planted a kiss to it, ever the gentleman.

“But enough talking about these things. I assure you, there is much more to tell when one grows up among New York city’s high society, but we can leave those adventures for another day” Stiles took a deep breath and nodded, happily jumping onto the prospect of ordering their dinner. There was, in fact, something else he wanted to discuss with Derek “I’m afraid I already know what I want, even if there were so many changes. What would you like?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on social media:
> 
> Twitter: @SofiaVolkerling // Tumblr: faded-green-of-bruises
> 
> XoXo


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